The Road to Hell
by TVaficianada
Summary: Set following season 3. Logan Echolls begins his sophomore year at Hearst College. Movie release has made this non-canon, since Veronica is also in her sophomore year at Hearst. This is a Logan centered story. He meets a freshman who will change his life in some unexpected ways and give Veronica a couple of cases to solve. While things look dark at times, there is always LoVe.
1. Chapter 1

Logan Echolls had the best of intentions when it came to Crystle Schneider. He certainly didn't intend to end up begging a certain small blond detective for help solving another mystery. But, despite his best intentions, and, as seems to be his new normal, things just went to hell.

It all started with Dick—or more specifically with some of the new freshman girls Dick had somehow waylaid on their way to the beach and persuaded to come to the suite. Their sophomore year hadn't even started yet, but Dick had been trolling campus hoping to pick off promising candidates for girl of the week. The latest crop of freshman was his preferred target area, as they were unlikely to know him. This successful expedition might set him up until sometime in November judging from the bevy of beautiful blonde girls marching through the suite to commandeer Logan's room as some kind of changing area. They were dragging behind them one girl who was small and dark and not beautiful at all, although her lips were very full. Her eyes weren't too bad, either. They were very blue and framed by long lashes. Logan had a good to look at them as they examined the suite. She looked like she was trying to figure out whether she needed permission to enter or to determine if she was about to be sold off to white slavers or possibly to identify the route to another exit should she need to escape quickly. She just didn't fit with the other self-confident girls breezing into Logan's room and starting to make risqué remarks. Logan would have sworn that one of Dick's shouted rejoinders from his place at the bar actually had this girl blushing. The girl met his eyes just then and she said,

"Excuse me, but is there a restroom I could use?"

"Crystle, God, you aren't going to need a private changing room, are you?" said one of the taller blondes near the rear of the procession. The small, dark one who now had a name seemed completely flustered by the question, and Logan took pity on her.

"There's one right through there. Help yourself."

She flashed him a grateful look, murmured "Thanks" and headed there. The tall blonde stopped and introduced herself. It seemed rude not to introduce himself as well, but he quickly regretted it, as she immediately made the connection with his father and, as was depressingly often the case, seemed impressed by it. Logan was never sure whether it was the former fame or the final infamy that fascinated people more. As he was seriously wishing himself somewhere else, the small, dark girl emerged from the bathroom still clad in the same clothes so maybe it was a bathroom and not a changing room she'd been after.

The blonde, who Logan now knew as Tiffany, said, "Crystle, why aren't you in your suit? Are you going home after all? I thought you were dying to see the beach."

Crystle said, "Well, I would really like to see the beach, but it's getting kind of late to change into a swimsuit."

"Skinny dipping is a much better idea," Logan couldn't resist saying but he regretted it. The girl looked terrified and turned an unbecoming shade of red. "Sorry. I'm Logan. Logan Echolls."

"Crystle Schneider. Pleased to meet you." She still looked uncomfortable. There didn't seem to be a spark of recognition when she heard his name, which, Logan realized, was a relief. Here was someone who didn't know anything about his history. It made him feel free.

"Crystle," said Tiffany, "this is LOGAN ECHOLLS. His dad is…"

"Dead." said Logan and he gave Tiffany a look that she appeared to understand, since she turned away and made a beeline for the bar where Dick was entertaining the now bikini-clad girls.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Crystle. "Should we be going?"

"He didn't die recently. Trust me, I'm over it. Would you like a beer?" When she hesitated, he asked, "A soda?" Did the girl not even drink?

She said, "Thanks, but I should probably just go…"

"To the beach? It will be there tomorrow."

"Yeah," she agreed, but she sounded unconvinced.

"It's not like you've never seen it."

"Actually," she said, "I haven't seen the beach yet. Well, I mean I've seen it but I haven't had a chance to walk on it. I know it sounds ridiculous but I wonder if the sand is like the sand at a lake and what it's really…"

"You've never been to the beach? To ANY beach?"

"Well, not an ocean beach."

"Where are you from?" Logan asked, astounded by the idea that someone could be in college and never been to a sea coast.

"Montana. Hardin Montana."

"Where is that? I mean, what's it near that I would have heard of?"

She said, "Canada? Or maybe Custer's Last Stand?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. The battlefield monument is really close; it's on the res. Hardin is the nearest town that's not part of the reservation."

"And you've been there your whole life?" Logan asked.

"Pretty much, yeah."

He couldn't imagine it. It sounded like something out of Little House on the Prairie. Never traveled? Never seen the beach."We are going. To the beach. Right now. Well, after you change into your suit."

She protested, "But it's so late. The sun will be setting soon…"

Logan cut in, "Exactly. Sunset is one of the best times to be at the beach and it's warm tonight. It'll be great. "

"I really don't swim that well."

He said, "Quit making excuses. Go get changed. I'm putting my suit on." He pointed her to the bathroom. "I'll meet you back here in two minutes."

He'd tossed on a pair of board shorts, and kept on the T-shirt he'd been wearing. When they met up again, he noticed that she had very good legs. He couldn't see much else, since she had some kind of one piece shapeless thing over her suit. The girls gathered at the bar, showing no signs of leaving anytime soon, were in their swimsuits. This beach-bound girl was dressed in something like a short burka. He grabbed his car keys and said, "Let's go."

She hesitated again, looking over at her companions, who weren't paying much attention. He said, "Sorry. Not a lot of room in my car." Well, it was true there wasn't room for all of the girls.

"Couldn't we walk?" she asked. "It didn't look that far."

"No one walks in Southern California."

She considered that and said, "I have noticed that. It's not very pedestrian friendly. But I don't want to inconvenience you. You were just minding your own business when we all barged in…"

He said, "It's no problem. I go to the beach a lot, but I've never been there with someone who has never been to the beach. My intentions are honorable, if that's what you're worried about."

"Well, I don't know anything about you. Are you a student like Dick? Where will you be living? Where are you from?"

He asked, "Are you always this inquisitive?"

"Only when I'm trying to decide whether to get in a car with a guy I just met."

"And if I had dishonorable intentions I'd answer all your questions truthfully."

She said, "You're right that you could just be lying to me and I don't have any way to know. The fact that you're pointing this out to me indicates that you're truthful. And it's reassuring that you're not all outraged about my hesitation. But you still haven't told me anything."

He said, "OK, but I could just be pretending to be honest and open to lull you into a false sense of security. Let's see if I still remember the questionnaire: Yes, I'm a student but I hope I'm not like Dick. I'll be living here…"

She interrupted by asking, "In this hotel?"

"Yes," he answered, "in this hotel suite, just like last year. I like it here. It's much nicer than the dorms. And I'm from Neptune. Did I pass? Does it help if I tell you I have a sister—well, a step-sister. Though, I don't think she'd be willing to serve as a character witness. We aren't close but I know girls have to be more careful than guys do. So, of course I'm not mad that you're nervous about getting into my car. But I promise we're just going to the beach because you've never really seen it."

She made up her mind then. "OK. Let's go."

Although they were alone in the elevator down to parking, they maintained elevator silence. But as soon as they emerged, she asked, "Is your sister older or younger?"

"Older. But only chronologically."

"And the rest of your family?"

"Mother. Also dead."

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" she said. "Wait…"

Logan sensed it. The moment of recognition. They'd reached the car.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I should have made the connection when you introduced yourself. And what Tiffany was trying to say. Your dad is, was, Aaron Echolls, the actor."

"Guilty. So now you know a lot more about me." He opened the passenger door but wasn't sure she would get in.

"I'm sorry, but I wouldn't say I know a lot about you," she said as she climbed into the SUV.

After they left the garage, he asked, "You didn't see the Echolls episode of _Tinseltown Diaries _when it was in endless rotation?"

"Sorry, I don't watch a lot of that kind of TV. My mom does. She talked about the trial all the time when it was going on. She was a big fan of your father's."

"Ah," he said, "a woman of taste and refinement."

"That's Mom. I'm named after Krystle Carrington from Dynasty—except my Mom can't spell so it's with a C, but not like the glass, either. I think I'm going to legally change it some day."

Logan said, "I've thought about that, too. What are you going to change your name to?"

"Oh, I'm OK with Crystle, but I want to correct the spelling. I'm going with the glassware. And the crystals found in nature, like snowflakes? They have really interesting properties." She was silent a moment, then said, "I can't imagine what it must have been like, what it must be like, to have your life on TV and in the tabloids. I mean, your Dad was an actor, but you, well; you didn't decide you wanted to be famous. I'm just sorry I didn't make the connection before…"

"Apparently my fame doesn't reach to Montana. You've said you're sorry enough times now, really, it's OK. The Echolls are yesterday's news. We're almost here."

"Oh!" She sounded excited. "Is it OK if I roll the window down?"

"Knock yourself out" he said, while he shut off the A/C.

"It smells amazing. And listen! That sound." She looked like a different girl and suddenly was almost pretty. Those lips were sexy as hell. " 'Sophocles long ago; Heard it on the Agaean,' "

He'd spent too much time alone this summer wallowing in misery, because he quoted back, "'For the world, which seems, To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light.' "

She laughed. "Isn't _Dover Beach_ one of the most beautifully depressing things ever written? I love those Victorians." As he was parking the car, she asked, "Is it OK if I leave my bag of clothes here?"

"Yes. I'm planning to drop you home after we've seen the sunset."

She leapt out but stayed at the car as he got out. She was staring at the ocean with that same look of wonder. "Thank you," she said.

"Let's go. I wouldn't advise taking your shoes off quite yet, " he said as he saw she was starting to kick off one of her sandals. "A lot of people leave stuff on the beach." He decided he'd mention the least frightening thing he could think of. "Glass."

"That's disgusting."

"Yes."

She said, "It must have been incredible growing up here. Have you always lived in Neptune?"

"No, we moved here when I was about twelve. But I've always lived in Southern California." They were nearing the end of dry sand. There was a conveniently located piece of driftwood to drop their stuff. "OK. Close enough," Logan said and kicked off his sandals. Crystle followed suit. He took off his T-shirt and Crystle took off the cover-up she was wearing. It revealed a completely unrevealing one-piece suit. It did provide the opportunity to see the rest of her wonderful legs.

Logan was ready to run and dive in, but when Crystle hesitated, he remembered that she said she didn't swim well. He started walking along the surf instead. She said, "The sand is wonderful, isn't it? It's so soft. Much nicer than the lake."

"The lake?"

"A reservoir, actually. It's in a canyon, so most of it doesn't really have beach. Boating is more popular. And fishing, though people use the rivers more for that."

Logan said, "Here it's surfing and swimming. We did have a boat. I used to love to go to Catalina Island. It's about twenty miles off the coast. You can see it when it's clear. Which it isn't today."

"Do you surf?" she asked. They'd gotten close enough to the water's edge that some of the waves were reaching them as they walked. She looked delighted but still apprehensive as she felt the pull of the receding waves. Logan held out an arm and steadied her.

"I surf anytime I can. I may come back with my board."

"Isn't it scary being out there at night?"

"No. It's great. It's like you're in a different world."

She'd stopped and was facing the ocean now. "Come on," he said and they walked a ways into the surf.

She looked around and said, "So many people here. Even this late."

He asked, "How many people in… Custer?"

"Hardin. Custer's in South Dakota. About three thousand. This water's so warm!"

"The water's not always this warm," Logan said. "Hawaii. The water there is warmer, even in the winter."

"Oh. I've always wanted to see Hawaii or Australia or" she laughed, "just about anywhere. I'm glad I've gotten to California."

They'd gone about as far as they could without swimming and they were going to get knocked over by surf, so they turned back to the water's edge and headed back the way they'd come. Logan asked, "What do you do in Hardin? Besides boat and fish."

"We didn't have a boat," she said. "I worked a lot this last year to save money for school. I don't know, the usual, go to school, basketball games, dances, keggers."

He said, "We should have brought beer." Apparently she did drink.

"I didn't go to keggers much. Or dances." She thought a minute. "Or basketball games, either, very often."

"OK. So what did you do?"

"Went to church. Hung out with my friend."

Church? This girl really knew how to have fun. He asked, "Friend? Singular? Boyfriend?"

"Not exactly. I mean, everyone thought Joshua was my boyfriend and that his sister was dating Kurt. But, really, Kurt and Joshua were dating."

"And you were dating Joshua's sister?"

"No." She didn't seem offended. "But Joshua's sister—kinda hot. I wasn't dating anybody last year."

Logan said, "I suppose pretending to have a boyfriend would make it hard to get dates."

"I had a boyfriend junior year but my father… He wasn't happy."

Logan asked, "He was happier about you posing as a gay guy's girlfriend?"

"No! He didn't figure out the gay thing, either. People see what they want to. He liked that Joshua was always so well-behaved and respectful," she said.

"Ah. Whereas the actual boyfriend…"

"Well, he was polite, but he was straight so…" she was blushing again. "I mean, he was a nice guy but you don't know my father. It was better to break things off."

"And start dating a gay guy. Of course." He was pretty sure he didn't want to meet this girl's father. Not that it was likely that he would. Or see her again. A Puritan girl from Montana. Definitely not his style. She certainly wasn't like other girls he'd known. She seemed wary, almost frightened sometimes, but had already told him more about herself than he knew about plenty of women he'd slept with. Listening to her talk was a little like watching some kind of weird pinball machine, as thoughts careened around and fell out of her mouth. And it was fun to observe her here at the beach. She was like a child, constantly stopping and bending to inspect shells and rocks as they walked.

She asked, "What are you taking this term?"

"Changing the subject?"

"Yes," she said. "I've got an English composition class, History of Western Civilization…"

"When is your History class?"

"Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at 10."

He said, "I think you're in my class. Professor Lucas?"

"Yes." She sounded delighted, "Oh, that's great. I'll know someone!"

"There'll probably be 500 people. You may not even see me."

"Oh, I didn't mean," she said and looked uncomfortable. "I mean, you don't have to sit by me or anything…"

"Relax," Logan said and pointed over the water. "Look. The sun's going." They stood and looked at the sun sinking into the ocean.

"The colors. They're fabulous." She said it quietly, as if the sun would stop its trajectory if she startled it. "Thank you so much for bringing me."

"I liked it too. But I should get you home." When they got to the car he asked, "Where do you live?"

"Grayson Hall. It's…"

He said, "I know. " Naturally. Parker's old dorm. Maybe still her dorm.

As they started out, she said,"This really was so nice of you. I'm so glad I got to see the beach. And the sunset was beautiful."

"It was no problem. The beach was nice tonight." He wasn't sure why but he went with his impulse and said, "Can I ask you a kind of weird favor?"

"Sure. I owe you."

"Could you not Google me when you get in?"

Crystle said, "I'm not sure I understand."

"I've done some things I'm not proud of and, it's kind of nice meeting someone who I've got a clean slate with."

"OK." She looked thoughtful a moment and said, "I do understand. No Googling, no Facebooking, no You Tubing, no Twittering."

"Tweeting," he corrected her. "And that's where you would broadcast stuff about yourself, not find out stuff about me."

"But once I twit—tweet about my encounter with Logan Echolls won't a bunch a people tell me stuff about you?"

He considered and said, "No Twittering, either."

"But people stay stuff about people all the time. And it's not all true, right? Or, maybe they're telling the truth, but only about their experience. People really can't tell you about people, can they? You might be different with me than you'd be with someone else. And how well does anybody really know anybody? After all, everyone in Hardin would tell you my boyfriend Joshua is my soul mate and we'll be getting married when I get home from college." Apparently all the questions were rhetorical, because she hadn't given him a chance to answer any of them. Now she was quiet for a moment, then she continued, "I know what you mean about a clean slate. I kind of feel like that now that I'm here at college. Like I could become anyone. I've heard people come to California to reinvent themselves. So, I promise, no Googling."

"Here we are," Logan said as he stopped the car. He had another impulse and pulled out his cell phone. "Do you mind giving me your number? I could call you the next time I go surf…"

"I don't know the number."

"Give me your cell, I'll…"

She said, "I don't have a cell and I don't know the number of the dorm. Or how I'd get messages…"

"You can give me your cell later when you've moved your service."

"No, I don't have a cell phone. They're expensive. "

OK. He'd just tried to get a phone number from a poverty-stricken Puritan from Montana. And failed. He said, "I guess I'll see you in class, then."

"See you in class. And thanks again."

Logan drove off trying to imagine life in Nowhere Montana—no phone, no pool, no beach. He didn't want to imagine the pets.


	2. Chapter 2

He was uncharacteristically early for class, but he had resolved to do better academically this year. He supposed he was still trying to become the person Veronica wanted him to be, although apparently she wasn't watching anymore. Even in the huge lecture hall, Crystle was easy to spot. With the text open and a notebook in front of her instead of a laptop and already hard at work with a highlighter in the middle of a bunch of empty seats. He went right up to her; he wasn't sure why. Maybe he wanted to get another look at the legs. She was wearing a dress in a summery print, with short sleeves but, sadly, no visible cleavage. "Hello," he said, "is this seat taken?"

"Logan! How nice to see you! No, please sit down," said without a trace of irony.

"So," he said when he was seated, "why Hearst College? Why not Montana State?"

"Well, it's far away from home and Hearst gave me a scholarship so I could afford it. I have an aunt who lives pretty close. She's just 25 miles east of here, so that's nice, too."

"A scholarship. So your grades must have been good. Maybe you'd be interested in joining my study group for this class…"

"Yes," she said. "I've read how helpful that can be in college. How many are in the group? Have you figured out how often we'll be meeting and when? I haven't nailed down my work-study job, so I don't know my schedule yet."

Planning to work and eager to join a study group. He said, "I don't know. I'll let you know the details of the first meeting later. You're a busy little beaver aren't you?"

She blushed, but kind of smiled too. "I have to get good grades if I'm going to keep my scholarship and I have to find a job if I'm going to stay here. But I have some leads. I'm trying to get in at the Library, maybe late in the afternoons or early in the evenings."

Great. If she gets hired at the Library, she'll be Veronica's co-worker. He said, "Well, the Library could come in handy, for the study group. Since you don't have a cell, do you have email?"

"Sure, but I don't have a computer, so I can't check it all the time but I've been able to log in several times every day so far."

He hoped she wasn't planning on writing her assignments on the back of a shovel. He entered her email into the contacts on his cell. He thought she would be useful to know in this class. There was going to be a final paper. They were also being graded on participation in the Friday sessions which were smaller groups led by the graduate students where the required readings would be discussed. The mid-term and final exams were going to be half of the grade. Even at the introductory session, she was taking copious notes in a meticulous hand and appeared to be mapping out some kind of schedule on the side.

Logan was glad to see Mac in his afternoon class, Business Statistics. Despite the awkwardness about Parker, Mac seemed glad to see him. Their rate an ass site was proving quite lucrative and Mac proudly showed off the new laptop she'd gotten with part of her share of last quarter's profits. He considered, but decided against, asking Mac about Veronica.

He hadn't bumped into Veronica yet. She hadn't contacted him at all over the summer. He would have sworn, when he decked Gory, that she'd given him a significant look. He couldn't believe they were really over, in spite of what she'd said. He'd emailed her a few times this summer, to keep her posted. While the emails hadn't bounced, he hadn't gotten any replies either. Calls to her, or at least, his calls to her, went to voice mail. He'd stopped leaving voice mail. Sometimes he fantasized that she had some kind of deep undercover assignment during her summer internship with the F.B.I. that had prevented her from contacting him. Sometimes he worried that the silence meant something worse, but he had to believe that someone among their mutual friends would let him know if anything happened to her. And how much trouble could she get into during an internship? Then again, she was Veronica.

He'd seen Piz in the radio booth while he was getting his lunch, not that he'd waved or anything. He had seen Wallace at the food court, and they had exchanged a semi-friendly greeting. He hadn't wanted to ask Wallace about Veronica. He didn't really want to be wondering about Veronica. Apparently she had meant it when she said they were over but he didn't seem to be able to make himself really believe it.

Logan had spent most of the summer in Neptune, not doing much beyond surfing, playing video games and reading some of the most depressing poetry and novels the English language had to offer. He'd spent his nights with a series of random, meaningless girls. They never talked about anything serious; most of them were likely incapable of a serious conversation. The girls were usually accompanied by alcohol and he never spent more than two or three weeks with any of them. It had been-diverting. Dick approved of his behavior, which should worry him, but it seemed better than any alternatives he could think of. He was trying to learn from his mistakes. He and Dick had finished the summer with a surfing trip, once Big Dick had been jailed.

But now that summer was over, he had decided he was going to take school seriously this year. He did need to figure out what to do with his life; his parent's inheritance and the residuals weren't going to last forever and, even if they did, he didn't want to be useless. He was, frankly, getting bored with himself. But he was afraid, too, that years of bad habits had made him unlikely to succeed in his new program. He needed to get himself some partners.

So, he was glad Mac was in his Statistics class and he was glad he'd met Crystle. He was serious about having a study partner in History. When he got home, he emailed her that the first meeting was Wednesday night at seven at the suite. Later that night, he got her message confirming that she would be there, but that she would be late because she had gotten a job and would be working until 7. She hoped that would be all right but would understand if the group felt they'd be better off without her since she would likely be working every Wednesday night until 7. Logan decided he would wait until tomorrow to render the fictional group's verdict that she was still welcome to join although they'd have to start without her.

He was surprised on Wednesday when the knock on the door came before 7:15. Crystle was standing, out of breath, on the threshold. He asked, "You didn't run here, did you?"

"No," she said, "one of my co-workers was nice enough to drop me off on his way home."

"Come in."

She walked in, taking off her sweater and looking confused. "Did you change the time? You didn't have to do that. I didn't have time to check my email before work."

"No. You're fine. Just a little earlier than I expected."

She asked, "Where is everybody?"

"Well, now that you're here, we're all accounted for."

"Logan. Although I haven't actually joined one before, a study group is generally composed of more than two people."

"Really? I've never joined one before, either. I'll note that for the next time I form one. I don't think we need anyone else. You've heard their questions in class for two days now. Frankly, I don't think most of our classmates are very bright."

"Judgmental much?"

"Discerning," he said. "You're the smartest person in the room. Or the second smartest."

"I've never asked a question," she said.

"My point exactly. Even the professor probably has nothing to teach you."

"I'm going now, Logan. Not amusing. You heard what our grade is going to be based on; this class is going to be hard. I need this grade to keep my scholarship."

"Wait," he said. "At least eat dinner. Room service is coming. You worked until seven. You haven't had dinner, have you?"

"No, but, Logan, what is this?"

"Relax," he said. "I am not plotting to have my way with you. At least, not with your body. It's your mind I want. I think you would be good in our study group. OK, as a study partner."

"And what do I get out of it?" she asked.

"'Was ever woman in this humour won?'" he said. "I'm hurt. I'll pull my weight. I can summarize salient points in a reading with my eyes closed."

"Here's a tip. It's easier to read with your eyes open."

"Look," he said, "no offense, but I've observed you among groups of people. You always look uncomfortable. Think of it as training for next term. You will have learned to defend a position, even when it makes other people unhappy." He sensed he'd struck a nerve and pressed his position, "This fall, you're my study partner and by next term you'll be ready to move on to an actual group. 'Shall I live in hope?'"

"'All men, I hope, live so,'" she said. "Do those lines ever actually work for you? Richard the Third might be the worst villain in Shakespeare. He's killed her husband!"

"Surprisingly, they usually do work, although in a romantic situation I go with 'Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?' Women are suckers for wooing. And, to be fair, most girls don't identify the play if they even recognize that it's a quotation."

"I'm going to regret this," she said. "Or maybe you will, because I couldn't make out what those excerpts from the Dialogues of Plato are meant to show us."

"You've already read them?" he asked while he tried not to smirk.

"You haven't?! We're supposed to discuss them intelligently on Friday."

"Which is why Cliff Notes were invented. Look, right here," he showed her the computer screen, "take a look at the introduction. Without the context of course it made no sense. It was written 2500 years ago. In Greek! And it's like his notes from Socrates class. Imagine someone reading your notes from Western Civ 2500 years from now. No, wait, yours probably would make quite a bit of sense. Imagine someone reading my notes 2500 years from now. But this is where what we think of as Western philosophy starts. Hold on." He got up to answer the door, "here's dinner. You keep reading that while I pay the man." Crystle started to reach into her purse, but he said, "No, partner, tonight's dinner is on me."


	3. Chapter 3

The following week, after their second in a row stellar performance during the Friday seminar, Logan asked Crystle, "So, what are you doing next Saturday?"

"I'm working, but just a couple of hours. I'll be done by 11. Why?"

"Well, I wanted you to see the beach a little more privately," he said. "But it's turned into this thing. I'm kind of stuck going now and I'd like some company."

"What kind of thing, exactly?" she asked. "And just how private is this beach?"

"Always with the suspicions that I'm trying to get you alone so I can have my way with you. It's a beach house my uncles have just up the coast. Uncle Teddy and Uncle Nate will both be at home so your virtue will not be at risk. Neither of them, by the way, is technically related to me. They're both friends of my mother's and yes, Logan has two uncles—but I knew that wouldn't bother you. However, Uncle Nate's Jewish and it's a holiday. So, we're both invited to spend the afternoon hanging out and then to stay for dinner. Do you want to come? Their place is really beautiful and I think if you don't join me I might be the only person at dinner who's younger than 40."

She asked, "What should I wear? How dressed up, I mean, for this holiday? What's the holiday?"

"I have no idea," he said. "I was planning on slacks and a polo. Whatever you wear to work should be fine, but I'll double-check when I call Uncle Teddy back. Thanks, for coming; I really just wanted you to see their place. And, given your history with friends of Dorothy, I thought you'd like my uncles—Teddy especially."

"Why especially Teddy?" she asked.

"He's really nice. Like you, he's always quoting literature. He knows a lot about all the arts."

She said, "It was really nice of you to arrange a beach trip. The weather's supposed to be good."

Logan asked, "Do you want me to pick you up at work? I can run you back to the dorm to pick up your stuff."

"Yes, I'll meet you at the Library just after 11, but we can just leave from there."

"OK," he said. "We'll grab lunch somewhere on the way."

Saturday, Logan got to the Library early. He found a parking place near the front door. It was a beautiful day, so he decided to wait outside. Just as he was climbing out of the car, Veronica appeared on the sidewalk.

"Logan? Coming to the Library on a Saturday?" Veronica looked at him but didn't seem to be really seeing him.

Logan recalled some memorable Saturdays when he'd stop by. The Library wasn't usually busy on Saturday mornings, and Veronica would hang a 'Be back soon' sign on the desk. Logan realized his thoughts had kept him silent and staring for an uncomfortable interval so he said, "Hello, Veronica." He wasn't sure how to proceed since she looked kind of pissed off. He didn't want to tell her what he was doing, and he decided to ignore her question and its implied criticism of his study habits. "Working here again this year?"

"Yes."

Scintillating conversation so far. How had this become so hard? Next he asked, "How was your summer? Did you enjoy the internship at the FBI?"

Now she looked happy. "It was great. Really more interesting than I expected. I got to do some research. I've already applied for next summer. It sounded like you and Dick had a nice trip."

So she had gotten his messages. At just that moment, Crystle walked up and said, "Hi, Logan, Veronica."

"Um. Hi," Veronica said, sounding uncertain.

"Crystle. I'm a freshman. You gave us an orientation. I work here, too, just got done."

Veronica looked uncomfortable. "Yes. Well, if you're done with your shift I'm probably late for mine. Nice to see you, Logan. Nice to meet you…again…Crystle."

After Veronica left them, Crystle said to Logan, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Logan took the stuff bag she was carrying and walked to the back of the SUV. "You weren't interrupting." Once they were on the road, Logan noticed that Crystle was uncharacteristically quiet. He asked, "So, how much have you heard about Veronica? About Veronica and me?"

"I've heard quite a bit," she admitted. "Mac lives in my dorm and she overheard me telling this story about History class. She told me that you and Veronica were pretty serious for quite a while, including in high school, which I guess you all attended together. And Parker mentioned some things."

Logan chuckled without humor. "Things like?"

"Parker said that she dated you last year, but that you're still in love with Veronica Mars and probably always will be."

"And you said?"

"That I appreciated her concern, but that since you and I weren't dating and weren't ever likely to be that it really wasn't any of my business." They were both silent for a while, then Crystle continued, "But, I mean, I didn't say this to Parker, but I'm saying it to you, because you seem kind of unhappy today, if you do want to talk about Veronica or about anything, you know you could talk to me, right?"

"I don't want to talk about Veronica." Then he forced a smile and said with a joviality he did not feel, "And what makes you think that I'm unhappy? Look at how blue the ocean is today. We're driving down the California Coast. We're going to bake in the sun and then have a fantastic dinner." He realized she should be enjoying this scenery, but instead she looked unhappy or maybe scared. He asked, "What's the matter?" as he reached over to grasp her hands. She was holding them so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were turning white. He started to massage the hand on top. "Relax. Seriously, what's wrong?"

"So, we're meeting your uncles," she said slowly. "And it's like the second most important holiday on the Jewish calendar."

"It is? How do you even KNOW that?"

"I looked it up. It's Rosh Hashanah. The Jewish New Year."

"Relax," he said. "Uncle Nate is only nominally Jewish; it's not going to be a big deal. It's going to be an excuse for his friends to get together and eat and drink."

"Yes, but we sort of invited ourselves, right?"

He said, "But I'm practically family. Think of it like meeting my parents. If I had any."

"Oh. Thanks. There's a relaxing thought. Meeting the parents."

"OK," he said. "That would be intimidating if we were dating, but, like you say, we're not and we're not likely to ever be so what's the problem? I called up Uncle Teddy intending to just borrow their place for the afternoon. They live on a great stretch of beach, by the way, which is why my board is along. They just happened to be having a dinner party tonight and invited us to stay. It is no big deal. They are both really nice."

She asked, "When was the last time you saw them?"

"I haven't seen either of them since my father's funeral. Teddy calls or emails me, though, about once a week. They're both busy. They're in the film business."

"Not helping," she said, sounding nervous again. "Are they famous?"

"You might have heard of Nate. Teddy does set design."

"Uncle Nate have a last name?"

"Of course he does," Logan said as he pulled into a restaurant parking lot. "The food's nothing special but the view is amazing." They had their lunch on the deck overlooking the Pacific.

Crystle looked considerably happier when they were back on the road. She said, "Thank you. Lunch was wonderful! It is a gorgeous day. This was so nice of you to arrange all this."

"Look, you're doing me a favor, too," he said. "I have felt guilty about not seeing the uncles in so long and I did not want to go to this party without someone to talk to. They aren't too far away now."

"Logan, these houses—they're mansions."

"They're just houses. People live in them. Like people anywhere." He stopped in front of what, he admitted, was a rather large and imposing home.

She asked, "Just who is Uncle Nate?"

"He's a director. Yes, he's successful. But before he was successful he was a theater director in New York, off-off-Broadway, and Teddy was a set designer, when he could get a job and a waiter when he couldn't and my mom was an actress when she could get a job and a waitress when she couldn't and they all lived, my mom said, in a roach-infested walkup on the fringes of Greenwich Village."

Logan was going to get the stuff from the back, but Crystle said, "Maybe we should just leave the bags here and come back for them later. I would like to get something. I think." She opened her stuff bag and brought out a grocery bag with a bow on the side. "I feel like an idiot. I brought this gift, but it doesn't look like they need it."

"It's the thought that counts, right?"

As they walked up the steps she asked, "Is the butler going to let us in?"

"They don't have a butler," he said as he rang the bell, "or they didn't the last time I was here." And the door opened and Uncle Teddy was standing there.

"Logan!" he said, giving Logan a big hug and then holding him away, "Let me look at you." He studied Logan a moment and then said, "You look good."

"Uncle Teddy, this is my friend Crystle."

Teddy said, "Welcome! I'll give you a hug, too, dear." He noticed the bag. "Apples. And is that honey?"

Crystal answered, "Yes," and handed him the bag. "May you be inscribed for a sweet New Year."

"Are you a member of the tribe?"

"No, I looked up the holiday customs," Crystle admitted.

"Aren't you darling!" then Teddy asked, "Logan, where did you find her?"

"History class."

"Well, come in, let's not stand here on the steps," Teddy said. "You kids want to hit the beach, I'm sure. Dinner's not until 7 so you've got plenty of time. We should have had this on Thursday, of course, but Saturday's so much more convenient."

As they walked in Crystle asked, "Do you need some help? In the kitchen?"

"Oh, no, dear, we're having it catered. I'm not doing a thing. Well, I'm setting the table, and doing some flowers. But they're almost done. You can help me with the table if you want. I was hoping to visit with Logan, but he probably wants to surf first?"

"Well," Logan said smiling. He knew he should stay and be social but he didn't feel much like it at the moment.

"Oh, go ahead, if Crystle doesn't mind keeping me company," Teddy said, then turned to Crystle and asked "Or are you hoping to surf too?"

"No!" Crystle said, "I've never surfed in my life. I'd love to keep you company." Logan returned to the car while Crystle walked with Teddy into the dining room. She said, "Your home is beautiful. It's almost like a work of art."

"The architect would be pleased to hear that!"

Crystle noticed a painting over the fireplace in the adjoining living room. "That's a wonderful portrait. Who is the artist?"

"A friend of ours. He still sells enough to make a living, but he's not well known. That's Logan's mother, Lynn."

Crystle walked closer so she could take a better look, then said, "She's beautiful."

Teddy joined her at the fireplace. "She was. And sweet. Logan gets that from her, but, thank God, he's stronger than she was." He turned from the portrait to look at Crystle, "I think Logan worries about what he might have gotten from his father. But all I can see he inherited there is some of his looks and all of his charm. Aaron was very charming, which made him very dangerous, since he had no conscience. Sorry, it's not nice to speak ill of the dead."

"Logan doesn't like to talk about his parents, I think," Crystle said.

"No. I don't imagine he does," Teddy said. "I've been so worried about him. He hasn't come to see us since Lynn died. I couldn't believe it when he called me and asked to bring you over. So, thank you." As they went back to the dining room to work on the table, he asked, "Do you think he's all right?"

"I really don't know Logan that well; we just met a few weeks ago. I don't know. A lot of the time when he's joking, the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, you know? But he's really smart and he's really capable. He seems to be taking care of himself."

Teddy said, "That's an improvement over a few years ago when he went through a self-destructive phase. I've never been sure just how terrible a father Aaron was. Ancient history. Let's talk about something else. Do you know much about art?"

"Not enough," she answered. "I haven't made it to any museums here yet. Well, really, I haven't been to art museums anywhere. I did see the Remington collection at the Buffalo Bill museum in Cody?"

"That's right. Logan told us you're from Montana, isn't it?" Crystle nodded as Teddy continued, "So you went to Cody to see the art? Isn't there any art in Montana?"

"The art museums and galleries are mostly on the other side of the state. And it's a big state. We went to Cody so my dad and brother could see the guns. But they've got a section with Western paintings and sculpture."

"Well," Teddy said, standing back to survey his handiwork, "I think the table looks good."

"It's lovely," Crystle said.

Teddy asked, "Do you swim?"

"Yes. I can kind of swim, but I find the ocean a little intimidating."

Teddy agreed then said, "We have a pool, dear. Do you want to change into your suit? I'll show you to a guest room."

"Oh! I forgot to ask Logan for the keys." Crystle looked out the window, "And he's already quite a ways out. Will he be all right?"

Teddy looked out, too, and said, "Don't worry about that. Logan's been surfing off our beach since we moved in and that's more than ten years ago. Looks like he put a bag by the door. Yours?"

"Yes," Crystal said as she walked over to pick up the bag, "That's just like him. He does things for me before I even think to ask. It's a little spooky. Like he's psychic or something."

"Follow me, up the stairs."

Crystle was reading Western Civ by the pool when Logan came in from surfing. He said, "Enjoying the view? I can't believe you dragged that text along on such a beautiful day. But at least I know why your bag weighed so much."

"Well, I've got a project for sociology to work on tomorrow. And, there's dinner tonight, so" she shrugged. "The sun feels great, the sound of the waves is soothing and it's a nice change from the view from the dorm. How was surfing? You look happier."

"It was great. I don't know, I get clear out there, you know?"

"No. I'm not sure I'm ever clear."

"Yeah. We need to find something that relaxes you," he said laughing. "You're one of the least relaxed people I've ever met."

"Relaxation makes me nervous."

"Of course it does. I'm going around the house to stow the board and then I'll be back."

She was reading again when he returned. He said, "If it's OK with you, I'm going to clean the sand off," and pointed to the outdoor shower that was by the pool. She started to close up her book and to rise from the lounge, but Logan stopped her. "No, you're fine where you are."

Since the house was built into the hillside and this level was above the beach, the shower was open to the ocean. The other sides—including the one facing Crystle-had a rock wall about chest height. Logan turned on the water and peeled off his wetsuit. After he rinsed his hair, he snuck a peek at Crystle who had gone back to reading. Or was she reading? Maybe he was imagining things, but he'd sworn her head had just snapped back to the text. He was surprised that he liked thinking she was distracted by his showering nearby. He wasn't sure what he thought about the girl; most of the time he didn't. He took another look at her lounging in her swimsuit. She was kind of cute and he didn't like to think that she never noticed him at all.

He finished showering, pulled on his board shorts and flip flops, and went over to the chaise lounges. "You should get yourself a bikini to work on your tan now that you're a Californian. Unless you're worried about people seeing that tattoo." Crystle jumped, turned an unbecoming shade of red and pulled at her swimsuit top. He said, "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Wait. Is there really a tattoo?" He laughed, "Let me see."

"No!"

"Come on. OK. At least tell me what it is."

"A cross."

"A cross? Like a what would Jesus do kind of reminder?"

An unpleasant look crossed Crystle's face before she said, "More like an artifact of an ancient form of torture."

He noticed her pulling at her top again and asked, "How far down does it go? Cause I gotta say for some it might act like a stop sign but a certain type might see it as a challenge. Me for instance. Tatoos. Kind of hot."

"I wish I didn't have it."

"Have it removed. Is that why you're always wearing…" he realized it wasn't too tactful to be criticizing her clothing choices. "I mean, if it really bothers you that much you should have it removed."

"Yeah. I've heard that's pretty painful."

He asked, "Didn't getting the tattoo hurt?"

"Yes."

He persisted, "Why'd you do it? I mean if you got drunk or something, it doesn't seem like a cross would be what you'd pick out."

"I used to be religious, you know," she said. "Look, Logan, I really don't like to talk about this. You know how you said you have some things you did that you're not proud of? Getting a tattoo is something I'm not proud of."

He said, "OK. Sorry. How long have you been out here? Don't want you burned."

"I've got sunblock 45 on."

"Of course you do. And you've reapplied every half hour." He got up from the chaise and said, "I'm going in. Do you want to come?"

"Sure." She closed the book and took the hand he held out to her to help her out of the lounge chair and as a kind of peace offering. They walked through the glass doors. He called, "Uncle Teddy? We're back."

Teddy came in from the kitchen. "Hi kids. The caterers just got here so I'm kind of in the middle."

"That's fine. Do you mind if I give Crystle the tour?"

Teddy answered, "Of course. Want to show her the Fortress of Solitude?"

"What?" asked Crystle.

To Logan's chagrin, Teddy answered, "When we first moved in Logan was still in his Superman phase."

Crystle turned to him as Teddy returned to the kitchen. "Really. Superman? I would have figured you for somebody darker, more tortured."

"Superman is tortured! He's an orphan. Worse. He's the only survivor of a planet. The only one of his kind. What more would you want the guy to have to suffer?" He realized that bringing this girl over to what really was the closest thing he had to family might not have been his best idea. Apparently Uncle Teddy was capable of embarrassing him more than his mother ever did.

Crystle said, "Hey, you don't have to defend the Man of Steel. For Lois Lane and me, it's always been Superman. Lead on, now I'm curious. This beautiful house also contains a retreat for our hero."

"I was nine! Eight maybe."

It was considerably later when they made it to the top floor. Crystle had stopped to look at a lot of the art and the posters from Uncle Nate's movies. When she realized who was Uncle Nate was, she hadn't been too happy. "You could have warned me. He has a last name you said. Where does he keep the Academy Awards?"

"I'm not sure. Probably in his office or maybe by the movie theater. They're both on the lower level. Uncle Nate may be working down there since we haven't seen him yet. That's why I didn't include it on the tour." He stopped near the top of the stairs, "Do you trust me?"

"Should I?"

He said, "Close your eyes," and she trusted him enough to comply. He put his arm around her back to be sure he could catch her if she tripped on the last steps. "Just three steps up. You're going to love the view." He guided her forward, and opened the French doors to the guest suite on the top floor which he'd called the Fortress of Solitude when he'd visited here as a child. He would spend long afternoons here reading comics while his mom visited downstairs. She was always happy on visits here, so Logan would be happy, too. They entered the main room of the suite that had three white walls and one glass wall looking out over the Pacific. It was clear enough today to see Catalina off in the distance. He positioned them right in front of the view, leaned down and whispered in Crystle's ear, "Open your eyes."

She did, gasped faintly, then walked right up to the window. "This view is amazing. Is that an island? Off in the distance?"

"Yes. That's Catalina."

Crystle looked around and said, "I get it. Icy white walls, lofty view and really quiet up here. This house. This view. This day. It's fantastic. Pinch me. I can't believe I'm here."

"I have a better idea," he said. He wasn't sure why he did it. Maybe it was the way her mouth was slightly open in wonder. Maybe it was the way that, despite what she said when he asked if she trusted him, she'd closed her eyes without hesitation and placed her fate in his hands. Maybe it was the way it felt to be guiding her in here with his hand along the bare skin of her back. Maybe it was just because he had been too long without a woman. Whatever the reason, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He dropped some quick kisses along her cheek, placed another on her closed lips and then sucked her bottom lip into his. He knew he should stop but Crystle had put her arms up, grasping his bare shoulders and stepped closer to him. She was short; the logistics were difficult standing. He spun them around and sat down on the fainting couch that was positioned to look out on the view, pulling Crystle into his lap. He held the back of her head with one of his hands. As he deepened the kiss, he could feel her breath coming faster. He could feel himself getting aroused and was sure Crystal had to feel it, too, since she was still in her swimsuit. Crystle had started to push against him with her arms. He broke away from the kiss reluctantly. Crystle put her head on his bare chest, near where one of her hands was now resting, and seemed to be trying to calm down. Then she moved down the couch and away from him.

"Whoa. Logan. I don't know."

"Yeah. Sorry. Didn't really mean to do that. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Crystle smiled at him. "Well, it certainly wasn't your worst idea."

But Logan wasn't so sure. "We should probably get ready. Get dressed for dinner."

"Yes. My stuff is in the guest room downstairs."

"Mine is still in the car. I'll go down with you."

As he came down the stairs again, after taking his real shower and dressing, he heard what he thought was the piano. Then he heard a woman's voice, haunting, singing what sounded like some old torch song. He figured Teddy had turned on some music for the party. But as he arrived on the ground floor, he could tell it was the piano. As he looked into the music room, he stopped, arrested by what he saw. Teddy was at the keyboard, as Logan had seen him probably a hundred times, but instead of his mother standing at the piano, that haunting voice was coming from Crystle. She was wearing a simple dress that, while not revealing in the usual way, clung to her body. It was a sort of metal color, like steel, and that seemed to do something to the color of her eyes. When they finished the song, Logan applauded. Crystle jumped, while Teddy said, "Logan. You didn't tell me she was a singer."

"I had no idea. That was beautiful." He didn't say that it was also sad.

Crystle ducked her head and said, "I haven't sung in a while."

Teddy asked, "Do you sing a lot? In choir? A band?"

"Church choir. Well, kind of in a band, too. Some friends of mine in the garage, you know."

Teddy asked, "Did the band ever play in public?"

"Once. At school. I think you can still see it on You Tube."

Teddy said, "You'll have to show me the next time you come. You will bring her again, won't you Logan? Or, come without him, dear. Logan. Let's go in the other room and have a little refreshment before the guests get here."

Uncle Nate finally joined them for the cocktail hour. Logan talked with them both, answering their many questions, while Crystle looked on. Logan went to stand next to her as the other guests began arriving. He'd been right. By the time dinner was served, there was no one else in the room under 40. At dinner, Crystle was seated next to a friend of Nate's from the New York years. They talked about the art pieces in the house. An old friend of his mother's was seated by Logan.

Logan and Crystle left soon after dinner. Logan thought Crystle looked tired. As they packed up the car, Crystle said, "Thank you, Logan. For bringing me. It can't be easy, coming here."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean your Mom. She must be everywhere for you. I'm sorry."

He didn't say anything, because of course it was true. The portrait over the fireplace, all the times she'd lain by the pool or sung at that damn piano. In the kitchen, the dining room, the Fortress of Solitude, he had seen his mom's ghost all over the house and yet, it hadn't bothered him as much as he had expected. It was kind of nice to be somewhere she had been and been so happy. It was comforting, almost, to be with people who remembered her with affection.

Crystle fell asleep almost as soon as they were on the highway. He drove on through the dark, with music playing softly. He thought about how Crystle had felt in his arms and how he'd felt when he heard her singing that song with such longing. Logan wasn't sure at all. Kissing Crystle might have been his worst idea ever.


	4. Chapter 4

That next Wednesday, she looked nervous when he answered the door, kind of like the first night he'd met her. Monday in class had been a little awkward; he supposed that was because he'd kissed her. And they hadn't seen each other in class today. Well, she hadn't seen him. He'd gotten there late and sat in the back, where he could see her in their usual spot.

He asked, "Did you have dinner?"

"Not really, but you don't have to feed me all the time."

"Please let's not have this argument again. Let's just assume we're eating after you get here. I already ordered two dinners."

"Thanks," she said. "I'll confess. I'm hungry."

While Crystle dumped her stuff down on the table by the couch, he sat down at his computer. "So. You have a video where you're singing. Want to give me a hint?"

"Not really. I think we're supposed to be posting something incredibly clever about the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius on the group discussion board to prepare for Friday's session. Did you know some educational scholars consider it a prototype of the reflexive practice, even though that concept wasn't introduced until the 1980s…"

"Let's wait to start until after we eat," he said. "I need food if I'm expected to think. And don't give me any random facts that aren't going to help with our grade. If you're interested in learning for learning's sake you are in the wrong study group."

"Well, I've known that since the first meeting when I was surprised to find it wasn't actually a group," she said tartly. "And, yes, I get your ironic commentary there on Aurelius's concept of goodness for its own sake and without hope of reward."

"Don't change the subject. You're singing for your supper tonight. How do I find this video? What song are you singing?"

"You won't find it that way," she said. "It's an original composition."

"You WROTE the song? I have GOT to find this video."

"I did not write the song," she said. "Joshua did. I'm not singing alone. I'm in a band. It was this talent show thing at school…"

"Hardin Idol." For kicks, he typed that into the search box. "Oh my God. Was it actually called Hardin Idol? Because there ARE some videos here. Please don't make me play them all and please tell me you were not in a cowboy getup because they look completely lame. The Cowman's Prayer sung by the Hardin Hearders?"

"Yeah. That wasn't me." She came over to the computer screen and sighed, then pointed, "That one."

"The Transylvanian Impalers?" Logan said, "That sounds indecent."

"Yeah, well. Transylvanian because Joshua is a huge fan of Rocky Horror, Tim Curry in particular. Fortunately no one else in Hardin has any idea what Rocky Horror is so they didn't get the reference. Impalers because Kurt is obsessed with vampires and, you know, Vlad the Impaler from Transylvania is supposedly Bram Stoker's inspiration for Dracula. Plus, bonus points for the fact that it does sound indecent."

"Shh. I want to enjoy this." Logan started playing the video, which looked like it had been uploaded from someone's cell phone camera. Neither the picture nor the sound was good, and yet, he could tell that the band was good. He had expected it to be so terrible that it would be funny. The drummer was really good. Crystle was singing lead. If he hadn't known this was her band, he would never have recognized her. She was wearing a pair of skin tight black leather pants, a tight black T-shirt that didn't reach all the way to the waist and heavy Goth makeup. She looked great. Like when she sang with Uncle Teddy, her voice had a haunting quality. But this time instead of sounding sad, she sounded powerful. She was strutting around the stage and singing a song loaded with sexual innuendo, most of it suggesting domination and submission. And she was the dominant one.

Just then, Dick walked by. "Whoa. She's hot! See, Crystle, you should try a look more like that."

She seemed to consider, then said, "Gee, Dick, I don't know if I could really carry that off."

"Well, no, you wouldn't look that good," Dick said. The girl on screen had turned to dance a while with the guitar player, who was doing a solo. "Your ass isn't cute enough. But with the right clothes you could be kind of attractive."

"Thanks," Crystle said. "I'll think about that."

"Man, all that girl needs is a whip. Or I could lend her my handcuffs." Dick stood watching a moment more and then seemed to shake himself. "Well, I'm off for the evening and probably the morning too. You two kids have fun with your studying. Although, I'm not sure what you're studying there. I could lend you my handcuffs."

"Thanks, Dick," Crystle said. "Maybe next week."

After Dick left, Logan said, "You really shouldn't toy with him."

"I wasn't. I like Dick."

"You do?" Logan asked.

"Well, I mean, I don't know him that well, but I can see why you like him. He's undemanding company. And he really admires you. The way he is, like just now, that doesn't bother me. I think he's mostly a sheep in wolf's clothing."

"Just be careful, Red Riding Hood," he said. "I wouldn't wear those leather pants around him."

"They weren't mine. They were Joshua's."

"How adorable," Logan said. "You shared clothes. I won't ask what clothes of yours he wore."

"Well, one time he went to a party at a gay bar in Billings in the red dress I wore to the Christmas dance."

"I said I wouldn't ask and yet you have to tell me." Logan looked at the screen where the band which was ending the song and asked, "Is he the drummer or the guitar player?"

"Guitar player. Kurt's the drummer. And on keyboards is Jessica, Joshua's sister."

"You were right about her. She is kind of hot." He hit replay. "I want to get another look at her." But he wasn't talking about Jessica. He wanted to get another look at this Crystle from an alternative universe. A universe where she looked comfortable. She sang most of the time to whoever was holding the cell phone camera. The boyfriend maybe? He looked at the date on the video and asked, "Two years ago?"

"Yeah, the start of our junior year," Crystle was watching with an odd look on her face. "God. I got into so much trouble. My father was furious when he heard about it. I tried to explain that it was like playing a part in a play. We were pretending to be rock stars. I had to promise never to sing in public again, I mean, except at church."

"That's too bad because you all are really good. And the song's good. A little strange, but good." Just then room service knocked. "So," he said as he got up to answer the door, "Marcus Aurelius. You've got the entire syllabus committed to memory, I suppose. Are we going to be reading Rousseau? St. Augustine? Kant?"

"Of course," Crystle replied. "And yes, I think he's partly here because he influenced so many philosophers who came after him." She hadn't been lying about being hungry. She already had the cover off the dish and was digging in, "This chicken is really good."

Later, when they finished up with Marcus Aurelius, Crystle kept sitting on the couch instead of her usual practice, which was to leap up and start gathering her stuff for the trip back to campus. Suddenly she asked, "Logan, did you see that the Film Studies movie this week, that's Friday night, is one of your Uncle Nate's early movies? Would you like to go?" Before he could answer she said, "It's no big deal, because Dan and I are going—like we always do—but I thought maybe you'd enjoy this one, too."

"Won't Dan mind?"

"No. I already asked him if it was OK."

"Who is Dan?" Logan asked.

"He works at the Library? He's the one who usually drops me off here, after work?"

He wasn't sure why suddenly her statements were sounding like questions. He hadn't ever really thought about what Crystle did on Friday nights but apparently she'd been spending them at the Film Studies movies with Dan. And apparently she was spending Wednesday nights with him, too, except for dinner and the study session here. He had an impulse to check this guy out. And it might not be too bad; it was one of Nate's better movies made before he'd gotten really famous. He said, "Sure, I'll come. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"No. Let's just meet outside the auditorium. Shall we say 7:15?" Now she was gathering up her stuff.

"Yes. But I'll see you in class first, right?" Logan asked.

"Of course."

As he helped her on with her jacket, Logan asked, "Can I give you a ride home?"

"No. The walk will be good."

"We went kind of late tonight," he said.

"Really, it's fine."

"I thought you'd say that, since we have this argument every week, too." Logan reached into his coat pocket and held out the cell phone he'd bought earlier that day. "For you."

"Logan. I can't possibly take this."

"It's not like I can take it back. The service is paid for the year. The phone was practically free." Crystle was still standing by the door looking down at the cell. He said, "I know campus has been quiet so far this year, but last year it wasn't so safe. If you're walking around you should at least have a phone with you."

She took it and said, "Thank you. But you're too generous to me."

"Would you relax? There aren't any strings attached. It's not part of my evil plan to have my way with you. Here's the user manual. My number's programmed in, but that's not sinister, either. Well, not sinister, but not altruistic, either; call me if you have any more brilliant insights on Aurelius. I don't understand this guy at all."

"You understand him. At least well enough to disagree with him," Crystle said. "Don't worry, soon, Machiavelli. You'll find him much more to your liking, I'm sure."

On Friday night Logan was right on time. Crystle was already there, talking with an extremely slender African American man. He presumed this was Dan, which Crystle confirmed by saying, "Logan, this is my colleague and friend, Dan Wilson. Dan, this is my classmate and friend, Logan Echolls." Logan shook hands with Dan, discovering as he did that the scent he'd originally thought was some odd perfume Crystal was wearing, was in fact the odd cologne Crystle's friend was wearing. As they spoke, it became more clear why Dan hadn't minded at all that Crystle had invited him along. He realized that she wasn't dating Dan, and wouldn't be in the future because no girl would ever be Dan's type.

As they headed down the aisle looking for seats, Logan heard his name called by a voice he'd know anywhere. He stopped but kept an eye on his companions as they proceeded down the aisle. He said, "Hi, Veronica."

She said, "I'm surprised to see you here. I didn't think this was quite your thing."

OK. Still holding a grudge for all the times her Bad Boyfriend let her go to cultural events alone. He said, "It's not but some friends invited me and I know this director pretty well, so... Piz here?"

"He's on the radio tonight."

So, the Better Boyfriend had a better excuse for letting her go to cultural events alone. He said, "I think it's starting soon, so I should probably go sit down. Do you have plans for after?" He wasn't sure what he had in mind. He quickly amended that thought. He wanted to take her back to the suite and show her why they would never be over. But before he could get carried away, she said, "No, Logan. No." And from her voice, which could freeze steam, and the way she was looking at him, he knew she didn't mean 'No I don't have plans,' she meant 'No, I'll never forgive you.' He said, "Enjoy the movie, Veronica," and walked away.

Dan and Crystle had saved him an aisle seat. He'd barely claimed it when the Film Studies professor came out and made her introductory remarks. When the lights went down, Logan sought out Crystle's hand. She entwined her fingers with his own. Logan tried to concentrate on the movie, but he'd seen it too many times before. He kept thinking about Veronica. As the movie was winding down to its inevitable and tragic conclusion, Crystle let go of his hand to get her purse out. He realized then that she'd been crying. When the lights came up and they were walking out, he asked, "So what do you two kids usually do after the movie?" Dan answered, since Crystle was still self-consciously using tissues to clean up after her tears. Her makeup was a ruin; her red eyes rimmed by blotched mascara. She had a black rivulet down one of her cheeks. Dan explained that they usually went to a coffeehouse near campus to discuss the film.

"Do you mind if I tag along?" Logan asked. He stopped by the ladies' room and asked Crystle, "Do you want to take a minute to clean up?"

She smiled and said, "That bad, huh? I'll be right back," which in girlspeak meant they'd be here awhile.

While waiting in the lobby, Logan and Dan worked out the logistics of two cars and the coffeehouse trip. They didn't wait long. Crystle returned quickly because Logan could see she hadn't bothered reapplying make-up; she'd just washed it off. He told her, "OK. We worked out the transportation. I'm driving to the coffeehouse."

"It's a nice night. Why don't we walk?"

He answered, "I've told you before: no one walks in Southern California."

"It's killing the planet." She asked, "Do you really want to drive?"

He looked at Dan, who shrugged, then said, "No, a walk would be OK. It is nice out tonight. I hope the polar bears appreciate my sacrifice."

"Well, I don't know about the polar bears, but I appreciate you."

As they walked, Logan asked Dan some questions and found out that he was a sophomore, was from Dublin, California, and was in the Film Studies class so he was expected to attend the movie every week. After consulting the guy behind the counter who Dan and Crystle seemed to know well, they opted for some unusual tea instead of coffee. Crystle insisted on paying the bill. They discussed the movie. Logan had assumed that Dan was also using Crystle to get a better grade but, tonight at least, Crystle's critique was too emotional to be any help in class. Logan mentioned the way the camera angles, music and lighting enhanced the emotional impact of the climactic scene. Crystal objected, "Now, that kind of analysis just ruins it for me. I can't stay that detached."

"Obviously," Logan said, "but Uncle Nate was manipulating you."

Dan asked, "Did you take the class last year?"

"Good God, no," Logan replied.

Dan said, "But you'd do really well. You've never thought about working in film?"

"No," Logan answered immediately. "I prefer to think about working with human beings."

Crystle protested, "But Teddy and Nate are nice."

"You've never seen Nate at work. Besides, they're the exceptions that prove the rule." Then Dan asked more about Nate. Logan told stories about his uncles and his mother, which led to more stories about film sets.

As they were walking back, Dan said, "You should join us next week. You're a lot more objective in your critique than Crystle is."

Logan surprised himself by saying, "I'll think about it." When they got back to the auditorium parking lot, Logan offered to take Crystle back to her dorm. Logan said a conventional farewell, while Crystle gave Dan a hug with a kiss on the cheek and promised to touch base over the weekend.

As they drove across campus, Crystle talked about next week's film, Brannagh's Much Ado About Nothing. Logan agreed to join them again. He parked the car outside Grayson Hall. As Crystle turned to him to thank him for the evening, he leaned over and kissed her. As she responded, Logan could taste the cinnamon and other spices that had been in their tea. After some pleasant moments had passed, Crystle asked, "Do you want to come in for awhile? My roommate is probably still out. She's usually at a frat party on Friday nights."

"I've never made out in a dorm room."

"But it's an essential part of the college experience."

Logan said, "Oh? One you could personally recommend?"

Crystle admitted, "I've never made out in a dorm room, either."

Logan sighed and said, "I suppose we should then. I wouldn't want either of us to miss an essential part of our college experience."

Crystle's side of the room was tidy. There was a guitar propped near the bed, and books neatly stacked on the desk. She turned on a small CD player and Bob Dylan started singing Girl from the North Country. The bed, which was the only seat on her side of the room, was covered by a soft, faded quilt that looked homemade. Although they started from a seated position, it wasn't long before Crystle was laying back against the pillows. She was warm, small and yielding. Logan was trying desperately hard to think about nothing and to feel nothing except the physical sensations. He was almost succeeding and was surprised to find himself getting aroused. But as he moved his hand down to the bottom of Crystle's shirt and his fingers brushed against the soft flesh between her hips and ribcage, Crystle sat bolt upright as if she'd been shocked. She broke off the kiss and said, "Logan, please, we have to stop. We have to talk." He considered her while he waited for the fog of lust to clear from his brain. Her voice wasn't steady and her lips looked well and truly kissed. Logan smiled. This was unexpected. When he'd leaned over in the car, it was an idle impulse or maybe an angry one. Not that he'd been angry at Crystle, who now had started speaking.

She said, "I'm sorry, Logan. Too much, too fast. I know it's ridiculous, but I've never..." She was looking down as if afraid to meet his eyes.

He put his hand on the back of her head and drew her close. He planted a kiss in her hair and said, "Shh. That's not ridiculous. But I hope we can do this again soon."

"Oh, yes," she said so quickly, and with such enthusiasm, that Logan laughed.

He said, "Besides, I was ready to stop. I was beginning to worry you'd lured me up here to have your way with me."

"Your virtue is safe with me," she said.

"And yours is safe with me. Tonight." But he realized that he'd started something that he had not intended. He'd expected kissing her to be a pleasant diversion from the unpleasant thoughts that had been his constant companions tonight. He hadn't expected to like it enough to want to repeat the experience soon or to want more. But he did.

They were looking at each other and Logan hoped he didn't look as eager as Crystle did-but he thought he had that same hunger on his face. Just as, against his better judgment, he had decided to kiss her again, the door burst open and her roommate lurched in. Tiffany stopped just inside the room, looked confused and said, "Logan Echolls? With Crystle? Wouldn't you prefer a real woman?"

Logan got up, pulled Crystle to her feet and across the room to the door. As they passed Tiffany he asked, "Why? Do you know any?"

He said goodnight to Crystle in the hallway with a chaste peck on the forehead and a promise to call her tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

During the next weeks, Logan and Crystle settled into a pleasant, if mildly frustrating, routine. In class, on campus, and during the Wednesday night study sessions they were classmates. Wednesday night farewells included a brief kiss goodnight. They went to the Friday Film Studies movie with Dan, usually followed by a hot makeout session in Crystle's room. Logan was beginning to find Bob Dylan's voice incredibly arousing. Crystal visited the suite on Saturday nights. She hadn't been in his bedroom yet. They stayed in the living room, sometimes making out. If Dick was around, they would just hang out. Crystle was helping them plan a party for the Saturday before Halloween. Sundays he didn't see her; she used that to do her work for all her other classes, she said.

Although October was passing, one Sunday the weather was perfect for surfing, so Logan and Dick went to the beach. Afterward, they crossed town to satisfy a very specific craving Dick had for the burrito at a particular restaurant. After lunch, they drove through a part of town Logan usually avoided. Although nothing had ever come from his fight with Gorey, he thought it was prudent to stay out of the part of town where most of Gorey's business interests would be found. They were just passing the River Stix when Logan noticed Veronica's car parked across the street. He slowed down to see what she was up to and noticed movement that appeared to be the long lens of her camera. She had been taking pictures, so she must be working. Suddenly Dick asked, "Does your girlfriend have a job somewhere over here, too? I thought she worked at the Library."

Logan replied, "She's not my girlfriend and I suppose she's working on a case."

"Crystle's a detective, too? You must've had a serious thing for Nancy Drew."

That's when Logan realized Dick was looking farther up the street, where Crystle was standing by a bus stop. Logan braked, rolled down the window on the passenger side and said to Dick, "Ask her if she wants a ride home." He pulled the car over to the curb and Dick said, in the most suggestive manner possible, "Hey, Crystle, Logan wants to know if you want a ride. Or, if you prefer, I would be available." Crystle just smiled, said "Thanks" and got in the back seat of the car.

Logan asked, "What are you doing over here? This is really not a nice part of town."

"I know," Crystle said. "I'm working on a project for sociology."

"Are you doing a criminology unit?" Logan asked.

"Kind of," Crystle replied. "What brings you boys over to this part of town?"

Dick related what they'd been doing. Crystle and Dick kept up a conversation, which was fine with Logan. He caught Crystle's eye in the rearview mirror sometimes and she smiled at him.

Logan parked the car in the dorm's lot and told Dick he'd be right back. "Can't Crystle find the way by herself?" asked Dick.

"I'm escorting her to the door," Logan said as Crystle emerged from the SUV. Logan took her hand as they walked back to the dorm. As they were climbing the stairs, Crystle asked, "Did you want to talk to me about something?"

They were on the landing and the stairwell was deserted. "Yes," Logan said and stopped, so Crystle stopped, too. "I wanted to say this" Logan said as he pulled Crystle into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. He caressed her back and slipped one hand under her shirt. He noticed something under his fingers that felt like a bandage. He moved his hand and said, "Hey, sorry, I hope that isn't sore?" he asked.

Crystle blushed and Logan realized something wasn't quite right. She said, "Uh. It's not a bandage. That's a Patch. I went to the Student Health Center. I mean, after last Friday night, I thought it might be a good idea." Crystle stopped, looking uncomfortable and then said, "Maybe it's presumptuous."

"Please, presume away," Logan said smiling. "So, if I'm not being presumptuous, how soon?" he asked, realizing that they were probably going to do this. And naturally, since this girl was not the spontaneous type, they were going to schedule it.

"Next Sunday."

Logan considered their routine. He definitely didn't want to worry about the roommate dropping in. "The party's the following Saturday. Shall we really celebrate?"

"Hmm. Halloween party," Crystle said. "Should I be scared?"

Logan kissed her again. "Nothing to be scared of," he said. "See you tomorrow in class."


	6. Chapter 6

Logan noticed that Crystle was starting to clean up the suite as he was ushering the last guests out. At least, the last guests who would be leaving. Logan assumed the blonde who was making out with Dick on the couch would be staying the night. He directed his attention back to Crystle. "They pay the maids to do that, you know."

"I know, but there's just so much."

"I'll leave a really good tip this week. Come here," he said while opening his arms. While at first he'd found the whole scheduling thing weird, it had turned out that anticipation had some things to recommend it. All night he'd been thinking, off and on, about the rest of their plans for this evening. Crystle came over, stepped into his arms and looked up at him. He bent down, intending to kiss her, but he stopped when he noticed she was shivering. "Are you cold?" he asked, thinking that there was a touch of fall in the air tonight. The door to the balcony had been opening and closing a lot during the party.

Crystle said, "No" but she wouldn't meet his eyes and was blushing.

"Oh," he said, trying not to laugh. Conscious of Dick on the nearby sofa he nearly whispered, "There's nothing to be afraid of. I promise you'll have a good time."

"That's not what I'm worried…" she stopped and looked uncomfortable as she saw Dick and the girl.

Logan took her hand and pulled her toward the open door of his bedroom. "Good night, kids" came Dick's voice from the couch. Crystle blushed but Logan just said, "Good night, Dick" while firmly closing the door on the laughter coming from both Dick and his hookup.

Logan gently guided Crystle to the bed where they both sat down. He smiled and said, "Alone at last. Now, you were expressing confidence in my ability to satisfy—nice touch, by the way, never good to introduce, ah, performance concerns in the male at such a delicate point in the negotiations."

Crystle was smiling at him which was something he realized he liked—she at least pretended to appreciate his humor. She said, "It's not **your** abilities I'm worried about. I'm afraid of disappointing you."

It was refreshing and frightening to hear such directness. She was a girl who just said what was on her mind. He considered how to respond. While certainly experienced, his knowledge of virgins was extremely limited. He tried to remember and found himself thinking about that epic summer when he'd hoped that he would be Veronica's first real—but he did **not** want to think about Veronica now. He realized he'd been silent too long. Since he was fresh out of clever things to say, he said, "Please don't worry about that. Please don't worry about anything. The less thinking, in fact, the better. Trust me, if you just relax your body will know what to do. And I know what to do, so, no worrying."

"You're sweet."

Logan laughed then. Had anyone, ever, called him 'sweet'? Thought he was 'sweet'? He couldn't see any way this could end well and yet, he wanted this. He wanted to try this. "Hmmm. Are you sweet? I wonder" and then he leaned over and licked his way up Crystle's throat. He nibbled on her earlobe which caused her to shiver. "Deliciously sweet," he murmured. "And now, at last, I'm going to have my way with you."

She started to rise from the bed, "Don't you want the lights off?"

He pulled her back down. "Actually, I prefer to see what I'm doing. I kind of like to watch. I'll go first," he said as he pulled his tee off over his head. "Now you," he said as he grabbed the bottom of her shirt.

She held on and said, "But I'm hideous."

He couldn't help it; he laughed as he said, "Even with your clothes on I can tell your body is not hideous. Those legs. Beautiful. I thought so the first time I saw you."

"At the beach."

"Yes." He disentangled her hand and said, "I promise this part won't hurt a bit" as he pulled her shirt off. But it wasn't a promise he could keep. Her eyes were tightly shut and he was glad because he was sure his face showed displeasure. The tattoo, which now he remembered joking about that afternoon at Nate and Teddy's, was not what he had expected. It was a clearly meant to be a cross, but it stood at an odd angle and had strange proportions. An instrument of torture, she'd said. It was obvious now why she was so intent on concealing it. It was incredibly crude; it looked as if a child had drawn it with a bad magic marker. It was also huge. The top came almost to her collarbone, explaining why her tops were always so revealing. Large parts of the design were still covered by her bra and pants. An apparently modest girl and yet someone had to have done the work while she was at least half-naked. He was having trouble processing what he was seeing. "Gal six seventeen" he read aloud from her abdomen.

Still with her eyes closed, Crystal recited, "Henceforth, let no man trouble me; for I bear branded on my body the marks of Jesus."

He said, "I don't understand."

"It's from the Bible. Paul's letter to the Galatians, chapter six, verse seventeen. He wanted to inscribe the whole verse but I talked him into just the citation. He used to repeat it, over and over, while he worked."

"He?"

"My father." She opened her eyes then.

Naturally, Logan thought. He should have guessed father. For a horrible moment before he'd been imagining that it wasn't a shy virgin before him but the traumatized victim of the worst boyfriend ever. He realized that he'd been caressing her without being aware of what he was doing. But now he noticed that something was not smooth under his fingers. He looked down and saw that the arm of the cross that was at the bottom of her ribs ended with an odd reddish welt, some of it wrinkled and some of it shiny smooth. Its shape was strangely familiar. "What is this?"

"I was burned. There are three more." She reached back then and undid her bra, pulled it from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Oddly, he simultaneously registered that her breasts, while not large, were beautiful—firm, nearly perfectly shaped—and that the effect was ruined by the tattoo and the scars that he now knew were burns. One was horribly close to the sensitive area by the nipple. "Jesus," he said.

She laughed then. "I'm pretty sure that wasn't the effect Dad was hoping for. Do you want to try again with some reverence?"

"I don't understand. You had some kind of accident and then your Dad tattooed you? To make the burns less noticeable? Do you even want to talk about this? Because it doesn't matter." And he realized it didn't. It was disconcerting at first, but the parts were all where they were supposed to be. And even if they hadn't been, she was a person. A person who was kind. A person he liked. If he didn't love her—and he knew he didn't—he thought it was because of something that was broken in him. But now he could see that she was broken, too.

She said, "No. We should talk about it, because it probably does matter. I should have told you earlier. I want you to understand, but it's not easy to talk about. My father is," she hesitated, then said, "crazy. He was obsessed with this idea of branding, in case I was lost or he'd mumble about a brand snatched from the burning. One night, he had me half strip, like he sometimes did, and he took off his belt. I thought he was just going to whip me with it."

This was going to be very bad. Logan became aware that his hands were balled into fists. Of course the shape of the scars was vaguely familiar. A belt buckle. He felt cold sweat forming on his own back and wanted to tell her to stop: he understood it all now. But if she could endure it happening, couldn't he stand to hear her tell the story? And he still wasn't sure he understood the tattoo.

Crystle continued, "He held the buckle over a candle. He had on these gloves he used for welding. I couldn't believe he was doing it the first time. I passed out when he did this third one." She pointed to the one on her breast. "I felt the fourth one when I came to." The fourth one, Logan realized, was still covered by her pants. She said, "It seemed to get rid of his obsession, though. He was better for awhile. But later I think he was ashamed. Then he got fixated with how the pattern of the four scars was like a cross and so God had been working through him the night that he 'marked' me. He started to be fascinated by tattoos. He searched the internet and found out how guys in prison do their own. So, when he had me strip again and he had all this weird stuff laid out by the bed I knew it was going to be bad. I think the worst was how long it took. Knowing all day what was coming. Every night a little more. He'd start where he left off the night before and it would still be sore. Over the ribs. That hurt the worst."

Logan was silent a moment when she stopped talking and then he said, "My dad liked belts, too, but he used them the old-fashioned way. I had to go select one. He usually did it in his downstairs office and I remember how I'd be thinking about what was coming while I made that trip up and down the stairs. Sometimes I'd pick one with a big, heavy buckle. I'm not sure why I did that."

"As a way of exerting some control."

"Or as a way of saying 'Fuck you.' For burning, Dad favored a cigarette." He pointed to the faint circle he still had by his navel. Crystle looked at him then. There were tears in her eyes—in both their eyes—as she touched the faint outline. He said, "Look, tonight, we don't have to… Do you want to just sleep? I think I'm too tired to take you home."

She got up then and started to pick her bra up from the floor. "I can just call a cab. I understand. I know I'm a freak."

"No," he said as he stood up, too. He embraced her then and her skin next to his felt wonderful. He thought that he'd missed that skin on skin contact almost as much as he missed having sex. Maybe more. He tucked her head against his shoulder while he talked. "You are not a freak. Your father sounds like a freak. Do you want to go home? Because I didn't mean I wanted you gone but was too tired to take you. If you really want to go home, I will take you. I am not sending you home alone in a cab tonight."

She was openly crying now, and he stroked her back. He said, "Shhh. You're tired. Telling me was hard, but I'm glad you did. Let's just go to bed." She looked up at him then. He thought again that while he didn't love her, she did something to him that he didn't understand. As was often the case when he was with this girl, he had an impulse and just went with it. He kissed her; he pulled her even closer while he plundered those lips. As he explored her mouth, she was matching him for passion. Her hands were stroking his shoulders. He could feel gooseflesh forming where her nails were lightly scratching his back. He thought his anger had exhausted him, but now he was getting aroused. Crystle was kissing his chest and licking his nipples. Incredibly, her hands were moving to his belt. He asked, "Are you sure you want to?"

She said, "I want to. I want you." Logan wondered whether their broken places were attracted to each other, as if their joining could mend them both. Much later, as he cried out in release and she covered his mouth with her own, he wouldn't say he felt healed but there was a fragmentary joy, followed by a sleep that was undisturbed by dreaming.


	7. Chapter 7

Monday morning, Logan knew it was a cliché but he felt happier than he had in quite a while. Crystle had stayed the entire weekend and they'd spent most of it in bed. He found it difficult to believe she hadn't had sex before because she seemed to know what she was doing. She'd told him she'd checked out a lot of material to study at the library about the same time she'd arranged for the birth control, which was so like her that he'd laughed. He would have been even happier if Crystle hadn't had an early class. He was grabbing a cup of coffee at the Food Court before meeting up with her in History. He was startled when Veronica sat down at his table. "So, Logan, did you decide you finally needed to cross 'Sleep with a hooker' off your bucket list?"

Suddenly he felt considerably less happy. He sighed, "Veronica. It's been so long since you've accused me of a random heinous act that I'm not sure how to respond. Hmmm. Maybe, 'What the hell are you talking about?'" But instinctively he felt guilty. Sleeping with another woman he didn't love and Veronica was already on the case.

She opened her messenger bag and slapped a sheet of paper down on the table next to his coffee cup. In the upper left was a mug shot of a girl who certainly resembled Crystle. He couldn't help himself; he picked up the paper. It was an arrest record for solicitation of prostitution from the City of Neptune. The name listed was Claudia Colby.

He said, "Don't think I know her. Sorry."

"She doesn't look familiar? Maybe if you look at the alias list it'll jog your memory." Veronica gave him a hard look and got up from the table.

Logan looked at the alias list. It took a minute because there were several including Fallon Carrington, but at the end was Crystle Schneider. "Wait, Veronica, I don't understand. If that's her real name why is it listed as an alias?"

Veronica sat back down. "I know you've been spending a lot of time together but are you sure you even know her real name? It wasn't smart to enroll here under a name she uses in her other life. I know it's hard to believe. She's really good. Convincing. The scared part of her act is probably easier than the innocent routine."

"It doesn't look like she's good at seeming innocent when the police are around." What had Crystle said that first night they met when they were talking about clean slates? That she felt like she could become anyone. And that video, she'd said it was like playing a part. Apparently she was a terrific actress, miles better than Tina. "Veronica, do you do background checks on everyone I talk to? Although," as he thought of his 'brother' Charlie, "maybe you should. I could put you on retainer."

"I'm really sorry, Logan."

"It doesn't make sense. I don't see how it's possible."

Now there was pity in her eyes. She said, "It's there in black and white. Six arrests last year." But Crystle hadn't been in Neptune last year. Except, of course, that if what was on this paper was true then everything he knew about her, everything he thought he knew, everything she had ever said, was a lie. What was that old joke? Who was he going to believe, Crystle or his lying eyes?

"Wait," he said as he continued scanning the physical description, "under distinguishing marks. She's got a tattoo. Shouldn't that be here?"

"A tattoo? Well, yes, usually they would record those. Maybe they didn't notice it."

"No one could miss this one."

Veronica seemed to be thinking something that didn't make her happy. Strangely, this made Logan feel better. She said, "I've never noticed a tattoo."

"She keeps it covered."

"Maybe she didn't have it yet. Her last arrest was in February."

"Maybe. Veronica, before, I know I made it sound like a joke, but why did you do this?"

"I don't know, Logan. I couldn't stand watching you being played. Something about her seemed suspicious."

"You were suspicious of someone who seemed to be good? How unlike you."

Veronica pointedly ignored his sarcasm. "Do you remember when you and Dick picked her up near the River Stix? I had been following Crystle that afternoon. She was making stops at a number of places like that and talking to some very interesting people."

"You were doing surveillance on her?"

"I was following a hunch. And it paid off."

"I suppose I don't sound grateful, but I really don't know what to say Veronica. You shouldn't have?"

"Fine, Logan. Whatever. I wanted you to know. Now you do. It's up to you what, if anything, you do about it." Then she got up from the table again and this time Logan let her go. He couldn't think. He kept looking at the rap sheet.

He didn't go to class. He went back to the hotel where he fixed himself several drinks. That's where he still was at noon, when Crystle knocked on the door. He opened it and gestured for her to come into the suite.

She looked at the glass in his hand. "Logan? Are you all right? When you weren't in class I was worried."

"And you rushed right over—or at least once class was over—you rushed right over."

"I thought maybe you came in late and were in the back the whole time," she said. "What's wrong?"

"A friend of mine gave me a present. I didn't like it much, but do you want to see it?" She looked frightened, but Logan continued, "Oh, yes, be very afraid. I'm not myself. Or maybe it's you that's not yourself. Or maybe you are yourself. What's worse, do you suppose?"

"Logan. You're scaring me. You're drunk."

"Very perceptive. Wish I had your powers of perception, Claudia. Or is it Crystle? Or something else entirely? I know it sure as hell isn't Fallon. Carrington. Mom's not the only one with a thing for Dynasty, huh?"

"Claudia?" she asked. "How do you know about Claudia?"

Fury filled him. It was all true. He cursed himself for a fool who had obviously been holding out for some other kind of explanation. "How do I know? I told you. A friend gave me a gift. Of course, it was about three days too late." And he handed her the paper he'd been staring at for two hours.

She said, "Claudia." She was looking at the sheet but not with the reaction he expected. He wasn't exactly sure what he expected, but it wasn't this. She didn't seem guilty or caught. She seemed to be searching for something as she scanned the sheet. She asked, "Where was she arrested? When?" then seemed to answer her own questions. After a moment she asked, "Logan, did Veronica give you this?"

"Yes. Veronica. She was following you that time I picked you up by the River Stix. You know, when you were doing that sociology research."

"I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"Yes," Logan said, "that would have been a good time to explain about the other job you have working your way through college. I have to say, I admire you. Toiling day and night. By the way, how much do I owe you? Do you take VISA?"

She said, "Logan. You don't think—Oh my God, I'm not thinking straight. I never thought—Logan. This isn't me. This is my sister."

Logan made an unpleasant sound and said, "Your sister? Funny you've never mentioned a sister before. Twin? Separated at birth? Wasn't this a Dynasty plot? I think I saw that episode on Nick at Night."

"No," Crystle replied "Not a twin. She's almost a year older although even people in town, our friends, can get us confused. We used to laugh about it. How one of our friends would claim they saw me someplace Claudia was or vice versa. And she wasn't separated at birth. She ran away from home almost two years ago. The last time I heard from her she was in Southern California and the letter was postmarked Neptune. But I haven't heard anything since Valentine's Day. She's the real reason I came here to college. When you saw me by the River Stix I was looking for her. I figured this was probably how she was making a living, so I was looking in the parts of town I thought she'd be in. But no one would talk to me."

Jackass. Why hadn't he shown her the paper and asked her to explain instead of assuming she was guilty and hurling insults? She was looking in her wallet now and was thrusting a strip of those photo-booth pictures into his hand. And he thought he was seeing double. Two girls so alike—the same pouty lips; the same dark hair; the same shape to the face. Sisters. "Crystle." He stopped. Sorry didn't begin to cover it and yet, what else was there? "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Logan. It's," she stopped talking and shook her head. "Let's talk about this some other time. When you're sober. Veronica…"

"I don't know what it is with me and Veronica. I'd like to be as completely indifferent to Veronica Mars as she is to me." Although, how indifferent could she be if she was doing surveillance on a girl she'd only seen him with a few times? "Sometimes I wish I could erase her from my head like in-that Jim Carrey movie; you don't know how I wish that sometimes. But I can't."

"No, Logan, hush," Crystle said. "I'm not asking about Veronica and you. Veronica-she's a private investigator, right? She can track people down. Do you think she could find my sister? And how much would that cost?"

He answered, "I think she could find your sister. And I think her rate will be really reasonable." It had better be. Because he wasn't the only person who needed to make amends.

Crystle went over to the bar and filled a glass with water, then dug into her purse. She handed Logan a couple of headache tablets and the glass. "Here. I have to get to my next class. Take these and drink lots of water; it'll help with the hangover. I'll come by after work and we can talk some more." Logan accepted the pills and the water. He knew he was too drunk to make any sense so all he said was "Thanks" as Crystle let herself out of the suite.

Late that afternoon, Crystle called to see if they could talk. They arranged for her to come over after dinner, that is, after Crystle had dinner. Logan didn't feel like eating, although physically he wasn't feeling too bad.

Logan let Crystle in and they sat down on the coach. Crystle asked, "How are you doing? Are you up to talking?"

"Yes. Crystle, I'm so sorry. I wish that I had just showed you the paper and let you explain instead of what I did. It's easy for me to believe the worst about people."

Crystle said, "Of course it is. I'm sorry, too, that I lied to you about what I was doing. I don't usually lie. There are plenty of things I don't talk about, because it's hard for me to trust people. I promise you that, from now on, anything I tell you will be true. I may not tell you everything, but what I tell you will be the truth."

"Why aren't you, uh, screaming at me?"

"About the assumption you made?"

"Yes. You should be kicking my ass."

"Would you like me to? That's an extra charge. And, yes, we do take VISA at Hookers R Us." She laughed. "Look, you saw what looked like my picture on an arrest record that had my name. It wasn't an unreasonable assumption you made. If I'd told you about my sister, which I should have, you probably would have made a different assumption. I'm really sorry I upset you."

"I'm really sorry about the things I said," then Logan admitted, "Although, some of it's a little fuzzy."

"I thought it was pretty mild, compared to what you could have said under the circumstances," Crystle said. "Actually, most of it was quite clever and funny. We have that in common, you know, that we make jokes about terrible things."

"Yeah," Logan looked at Crystle. "I know I said something about Veronica. Could you fill me in?"

Crystle said, "You're still in love with Veronica Mars, although it doesn't make you happy."

"I'm sure I didn't say that."

"Of course not," Crystle closed her eyes, as she often did when they were studying and she was recalling something. It was like the back of her eyelids was the screen where she replayed the scenes she kept in her head. "You said 'I wish I could be as completely indifferent to Veronica Mars as she is to me.'" Crystle opened her eyes and turned to look at Logan. "Then you made an anguished reference to The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, although you were too drunk to recall the title."

"Charming. So," Logan said, unsure of what he wanted to hear, "where does this leave us?"

"Look, Logan, I really like you and I like us, too. Why don't we just keep on and see how it goes; if that's something you still want to try. I mean, I'll understand if you don't want to."

"Hey, I'm on track for an A in History."

"Well, if that's what you're worried about, we could just go back to being study partners."

"Wouldn't you miss..." Logan stopped talking and touched Crystle's lip.

For an answer, Crystle sucked his thumb into her mouth. Logan moved his hand down and caressed her throat and then her collarbone while she said, "Yes, I'd miss this a lot."

"So, we're still," Logan stopped, unsure of what to call them.

"Study partners with benefits."

"Do you want to talk about your sister?"

"Not tonight. I'm kind of, I don't know, I mean I sort of assumed that she was doing whatever she had to, but actually knowing is worse than I thought it would be. And I'm more scared now about why I haven't heard from her"

"Shhh. " Logan hugged her and said, "we'll figure it out."

"Logan, you should be dating some nice, uncomplicated girl from the right kind of family. Tiffany."

"Yeah. Tiffany's uncomplicated all right. She's simply a bitch. And you should be dating some nice uncomplicated boy whose father wasn't a murderer."

"I like complicated. Complicated is interesting."

"Exactly. And you aren't responsible for what your sister does."

"I feel responsible. And what about when I find her? I mean, she can't move in with me."

"Could she go home? Would your parents take her back?"

"Sure, but she'd never go. You know how my father is. One time he started choking her and I really thought he might kill her. It would be worse given what she's been doing. She'd have to do penance."

"What about your mother? I mean, did she know what was going on?"

"Mom's good at avoiding reality. Drinking seems to help."

"Is that why you don't drink?"

"I drink sometimes. But, only when I feel safe, which I don't very often. I wouldn't mind one now."

Logan got up and went to the bar. "What would you like?" He made her a gin and tonic.

"Thank you," she said when he handed her the drink. "For everything." They sat in companionable silence for awhile while Crystle sipped her drink. Logan thought about what she'd said. She felt safe, here, with him. He liked the way that made him feel. He'd shown Crystle a number of unpleasant parts of himself this afternoon. Yet, here she was this evening sitting calmly next to him after a minimum of drama. Although, he had to admit screaming, or at last strong verbal push-back, followed by hot makeup sex was more to his taste.

"Do you want me to talk to Veronica, about finding your sister?"

"Would you? It's kind of awkward, and I don't think she likes me much. But she found out so much already."

"Do you want to come with me?"

"No; but if she agrees to look for Claudia, I'll talk to her about the money part. Thanks, again. You really are too good to me."

Logan laughed, "Not something I hear too often. Do you want to stay over and show me just how much you appreciate me?"

Crystle said, "'The spirit indeed is willing but the flesh'" She stopped and looked at him, blushing and looking uncomfortable.

Logan realized the problem, or thought he did. "Oh. Sorry. We were too energetic?"

She smiled, "Well, the thing is, I feel like I should have started on the bunny slopes but instead I, what's the opposite of a bunny slope?"

"If I grasp your very flattering analogy you're saying this weekend was like skiing the blacks."

"Really? I was thinking about those mound things you see on the Olympics."

"Moguls. But my analogy is better."

"I like the way that sounds, 'skiing the blacks'. But I don't get the reference."

"You're from Montana!"

"Yeah, but I'm from the flat side. The Rockies and all the interesting stuff—that's a long way from where I live. Montana is almost as big as California."

"Ski trails are color coded by difficulty. The black ones are most challenging."

"And presumably the most exhilarating."

"Yeah."

"You must ski. Do you ski the blacks?"

"When I stay on the trails."

"I don't think I want to know more. I should be getting home, anyway. It's been a long day."

"Yeah. Are you OK to get home?"

"Really, Logan, I can handle one gin and tonic."

He got up from the sofa, too, and walked Crystle to the door. He wasn't sure if she wanted him to, but he kissed Crystle goodnight. She returned it. It wasn't passionate, but it was nice. Sweet, even.


End file.
